672
by Default Jane
Summary: If it's not the zombies, it's the solitude that'll get you. (A lil' something Hunniper because I think we need more of it. )
1. Little off-guard and unprepared

**Standard disclaimer: everything Resident evil belongs to Capcom &pals, the rest to yours truly, k'thx! **

* * *

**Chapter 1: Little off-guard and unprepared**

* * *

672.

Not months, not weeks, not even days. Six hundred and seventy-two hours. Or, roughly translated twenty-eight days. That's how long it had been. Contrary to what was often seen in popular culture, the siege wouldn't go on for years, it couldn't, there wouldn't be a post-apocalyptic world swarming with the undead. Simply because dead people were practically useless as weapons when it came to prolonged warfare. Zombies were great in a "hit and run"-type of an assault. They were easy to use for quickly causing a distraction, chaos, panic. Causing people to do stupid things and make things worse to the point of making dealing with "normal" humans more frightening than taking on a horde of the undead. But it wouldn't zombies were dead and literally rotting. Mother nature was taking care of the problem with maggots, flies and extreme temperatures.

Ingrid Hunnigan's footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as she made her way across the fortress that was the D.S.O. headquarters. Normally the building would've been bustling with agents, intelligence liasons, security personel, various secretaries from various sister organizations, but now it was empty. The evacuation order had come a few days after the initial chaos. Those few who hadn't been deployed or hadn't abandoned their posts to seek out family and friends had left the building then. All but Hunnigan.

She didn't have anywhere to go, no one to meet up with. She'd lost contact with her parents during the third day and hadn't seen or heard anything from them since. She had a pretty good idea of what had happened. So she'd stayed. Endlessly scanning the world via satellites and the copious amounts of webcams, and security- and traffic cameras still connected to the network. Most of what she saw wasn't exactly uplifting. Occasionally she spotted survivors and tried making contact, but her attempts had been fruitless. Still, she kept broadcasting messages on every known frequency and through every channel available to her, clinging on the hope that someone would respond eventually. So far she'd gotten only a few scattered responses from here and there. They never stayed for long. Either they had to move on or they got overrun if they didn't. Apart from clipped chatter from still functional military- and government operations, it was rather quiet. There was nothing to do but to wait. Alone.

A certain amount of isolation and solitude was something Hunnigan was more than familiar with. Nothing set a person apart from their peers quite like freak intellect did. She'd grown up with it, harboring the hope that it would get better once she was an adult and got to deal with other adults who wouldn't see her abilies as an unknown and therefore threatening. What a waste of energy that had been. Adults were even worse than kids.

Her way of thinking was so different from theirs that they were practically willing to label it mental illness because they didn't know what else to call it, how to understand it, how to even begin approaching it. At least the worst the kids could come up with were limited to such uplifting labels as nerd, geek, dork, dweeb, and what have you. Granted, the general public was so dumb these days that common sense was enough to call for a witch hunt, a genius-level IQ and ability to think outside every possible box wasn't even necessary.

Hunnigan was the first to admit that there were days when even she didn't quite understand her own thinking, but usually she made the connections eventually, the picture and her thoughts becoming clear after the fact. Like slowly revealing a plot twist that had been obvious to the main character all along while the side kick and the viewers tried piecing it together.

The HQ was a fortress, stocked up with decent medical supplies, some weapons and enough food to sustain a small army for over a year. For a single person it all would last easily over a decade or more and even if she were lucky enough to get some company, it would be all right. She had air filters, water filters, the building was powered by solar- and wind-energy should the main power grid fail and the backup generators run out of fuel. The HQ was like something out of a doomsday preppers' wet dream. She had everything from hot water and functional plumbing to little luxuries like tea and coffee, she had everything you could ever need in a situation like this... except the one thing she was craving for.

Hunnigan didn't think she'd ever wanted a cigarette so badly in her life. Not even during the first few days after she'd initially quit cold turkey three years ago as a 30th birthday present to herself.

"Low-carb, low-fat, non-smoking, non-drinking, and spent ridiculous amounts of time and effort simply to remain aesthetically pleasing, and all for what? Just to end up a zombie snack or a demented recluse," Hunnigan chatted to herself as she headed down the stairs. She made a short detour to the maintenance room to grab a screwdriver and then continued toward the locker rooms.

"Of course, with my luck, should I have adopted the sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll-lifestyle, I'd be a four hundred pound addict and there wouldn't be a zombie in sight," she added then.

"Good point, other Hunnigan," she continued chatting to herself after a short pause. She knew people considered talking to oneself a bit nutty, but it was better than not talking to anyone at all. Besides, as long as she didn't consider the "other Hunnigan" (she'd begun jokingly referring herself to as when she answered her own questions) an actual person, she figured her mental health was as good as it could be under the circumstances.

Hunnigan entered the locker room and paused by the door with her hands on her hips. She'd left people's personal lockers alone even after they were long gone and undoubtedly had taken whatever they'd considered important enough with them. She'd done so because she hadn't needed anything and mostly out of respect. But now... desperate times called for desperate measures and respect had stopped meaning as much.

Hunnigan stepped to the first locker and inserted the bump key she'd carefully crafted her own locker key into earlier. She then pulled it back until she felt a couple of clicks and hit it with the handle of the screwdriver.

"I've gotten a little rusty," she muttered to herself as she twisted and pushed the key. Contrary to what anyone aware of her lockpicking abilities always assumed, the reason she possessed said skill set wasn't questionable; she hadn't broken into anything without permission ever before. It was just another thing she'd taught herself because she'd wanted to know how it worked.

Computers, locks, household appliances, you name it, she could take it apart and put it back together again... at least most of the time. It was what she did; figured out what made things tick. Things and tech were easy, every piece had a reason for being where it was and performing the function that it did, the trick was figuring out the logic behind it all and you could see the thousand small pictures forming the big picture and how to piece it all together.

People were different, difficult, emotional rather than logical. Hunnigan appreciated the irony of herself thinking like that considering that just a few months ago she herself had risked practically everything she had just because of her own emotional attachment to Leon and Helena. Just because she'd had a _feeling_. A feeling that told her to trust the two of them. She hadn't been wrong in trusting them before, why should she have felt otherwise?

"Sometimes I wonder what it is that makes _me_ tick."

"That's something you can ponder on later in the mandatory therapy sessions you'll undoubtedly be subjected to once this is over."

"Good point, other Hunnigan."

"All right, agent Carpenter, let's see if you are..." Hunnigan then started to say as the lock gave in and the locker opened.

"... _were_ a smoker," she corrected herself and began going through the few items in the locker. Agent Malory Carpenter, forty-two years old, ex-Navy, looked as butch as a woman could without actually being a man, and had the thickest Boston accent Hunnigan had ever heard in her life. Smart, funny, occasionally scary, overall a good person and an excellent agent. Also, to many people's surprise, married to a man. Current status: deceased.

"And apparently a non-smoker," Hunnigan sighed and moved onto the next locker.

Agent Thomas Jefferson (no relation to the former U.S. President, merely a victim of parents with an odd sense of humor), thirty-one years old, a skinny man who appeared humorless and introverted... until getting a drink or two in him at the office Christmas parties. Non-smoker, but possibly a binge-eater judging from the amount of candy bars and empty wrappers stashed in his jeans' pockets. Current status: deceased.

"Deceased... unknown, unknown, deceased..." Hunnigan listed as she made her way through the double-tier lockers.

"Agent Leon Scott Kennedy, current status unknown. Where are the titty-magazines? I am disappointed," Hunnigan tutted, shaking her head as she flipped through the pages of a motorcycle magazine. She felt the pockets of his leather jacket stored in the locker and pulled out a lighter. Promising, but no cigarettes to go with it, just a pack of gum. Nothing she needed there. She moved on and paused when she reached the end of the row.

Agent Helena Harper. Twenty-four years old, an impatient hothead who constantly questioned authority, but at the same time, one of the most passionate and loyal people Hunnigan had ever known. And judging from the contents of her locker, she enjoyed reading cheesy romance novels during downtime between missions. Current status: unknown.

"Well, this is certainly girlier than what I'd ever expected from you," Hunnigan smiled as she read the back cover of the book before putting it back into the locker. She reached to feel the pockets of the hoody hanging in the back of the locker and inhaled sharply when she found a treasure, a pack of Marlboro Gold 100s.

"I don't know what I was expecting, when have you ever let me down?" Hunnigan chuckled as she weighed the pack in her hand. It was light, most of the contents already smoked by the pack's rightful owner, but that was all right, one was really all Hunnigan had wanted anyway, anything excess was an added bonus.

"I'll reimburse you for this, I promise."


	2. Asking for a smaller heart

**Chapter 2: When the wizard gets to me, I'm asking for a smaller heart**

* * *

Helena kind of hated saying it and thinking like that, but couldn't deny it either. After losing Deborah and after being cleared from the allegations against her, her life had been simpler. She no longer had anyone to worry about, no responsibility for someone else's well-being and happiness, the only person she needed to look after was herself.

At first it had been difficult to adjust to living without having her sister to talk to. There still were times when something nice happened and Helena's first instinct was to call Deborah to tell her the good news. But once she had adjusted, life had been easy. She would've preferred it that way even if it hadn't felt quite right; being so detached wasn't like her. Alas, she wasn't immune to the stupidity brought on by the disease commonly described simply with the worn phrase "the heart wants what the heart wants". And because her heart kept inanely insisting, here she was, making her way from Colorado to D.C. on foot, all because of one sentence that had kickstarted her stupid, stupid heart.

 _I'm not going anywhere,_ Hunnigan had told Helena the last time they'd spoken, a good while back when Helena had still had a working radio on her, back when the evacuation orders had been given out, shortly prior to the contingency sterilization missiles being launched from NORAD in an effort to contain the outbreak. The thing about those missiles was that in addition to killing the B.O.W.'s (and whoever happened to be unfortunate enough to get stuck in the blast zone), they also effectively fried out most of the electronical equipment in the vicinity, leaving Helena and other field operatives with little to no means of contacting each other or HQ. Not that it mattered much now. All other officers were gone, what was left of the field agents had abandoned their missions long ago. Helena didn't know it, but Hunnigan's screen that was usually flooding with real-time reports from field operatives had been silent for weeks.

But that sentence, those four words delivered with the calm tone that promised familiar guidance, that was what it took for Helena to abandon her post and head back. Why it had made Helena feel like that, she couldn't say. All she knew for certain was that she _needed_ to get there.

Under normal circumstances, she probably could've walked from Colorado to D.C. by now, but nothing was normal now. Thanks to the chaos, most of the roads were blocked and driving anywhere was nearly impossible. Any average human's first instinct was to leave the cities. Problem was, there were a lot of average humans and they all had the same idea, their actions ultimately resulting in no one going anywhere.

Helena stopped at the bottom of a hill and got off the bicycle she'd scavenged from someone's backyard a few days back. She had no intention of riding the bike up the hill, she didn't really have the excess energy to waste and at this rate her quads would make professional cyclists' look puny in comparison by the time she made it to her destination. Well, maybe not, especially when considering her body didn't have much time to rest or nutrients to use rebuilding the muscles she wore out daily.

It was getting dark and she was growing tired, not to mention hungry. She would've even eaten olives if she'd happened to find some right now. That was saying something; she hated olives. Helena took a tiny sip of water and got off the road, heading toward the large building across a basketball court and a playground.

"School's out," she muttered quietly when she reached the building and realized it was a school. Helena took out the small flashlight from the loop in her utility belt and shone the beam into the dark hallway. No movement, no sounds. She waited for a while before slowly pushing the door open and getting inside.

She passed a few classrooms and had to laugh out loud when she saw the blackboard. Someone had taken the time to fill it with the words "Reapers are just a myth" written in capital letters over and over, as if being punished by a teacher for making outrageous claims of reapers being real. Helena admitted she didn't get the joke, but the mere act of someone bothering to do this in the middle of a zombie apocalypse was... amusing and oddly inspiring.

Following the signs hanging from the ceiling, she made her way toward the cafeteria. She wasn't honestly expecting to find anything edible there, it had been what, four weeks now? Surely whatever there'd been available had already spoiled or had been eaten. But it couldn't hurt to check. At the very least, there might be water.

She circled to the kitchen and stared at the fridge door defiantly. The hum of electronics suggested everything was still operational but still, opening the fridge was ill-adviced... so of course she had to look in.

"Eauh!" she coughed when the stench of rotting and moldy food hit her. "Why the fuck did I do that? I'm an idiot," she told herself and hastily shut the door.

She did a quick tour around the kitchen, peeking into cabinets, looking to scrounge up something to eat, but anything consumable had already been taken. Sighing, she tried the water tap. At least that was still functioning and the water seemed clear. She took some into the cup of her palm and sniffed it before taking a taste. No scent, no flavor. Good.

After filling up her water reserves, she headed up to the offices, hoping to find a good spot to get a few hours of sleep. She passed the broken and emptied vending machines in the waiting room and entered the principal's office. Helena blocked the door with a chair before slumping into the comfortable one behind the desk.

She leaned back, lifted her feet onto the desk and lit a cigarette, taking a moment to appreciate being able to fulfill an adolescent fantasy of performing such impudent acts at the desk of the school's highest authority figure. It wasn't as much fun as she'd expected.

"Hey, God, it's Helena Harper again. I'm kind of running on fumes here and I was wondering if there's any chance I could catch a break. Maybe give me a sign?" she spoke quietly as she exhaled the smoke, and chuckled at the silence.  
"No? Yeah, I figured. Thanks for nothing, I never did believe in you much anyw-" she began to say but was interrupted. The phone on the desk rang. Helena stared at it for a long moment before slowly reaching her hand to it, careful as if expecting the noisy object come to life an bite her fingers off.

"...hello..?"

* * *

"No, no, no, don't go in there!" Hunnigan groaned as she watched helplessly when a small group of survivors did what everyone seemed to think was a smart move during a zombie apocalypse; they headed into the sewers.

"Why would you do that? What is wrong with you? It's not any safer in there, it's full of germs and crap and... stinky," she scoffed. It was as useless as yelling at the screen in a movie theater; the characters were scripted to do the dumbest things. They never looked behind them when they should've, they always tripped on something, and of course someone always thought it would be a great idea to split up.

"Hello, goodbye," Hunnigan rolled her eyes as the team disappeared into the sewers and everything was quiet and motionless again. She returned her attention to her meal that was sitting on the side desk. She'd never managed to bring herself to eat alone in the mess hall, the large empty space made her feel even lonelier.

"Today I have for you a mixture of frozen vegetables, namely broccoli, cauliflower and peas with some pasta, lovingly prepared with..." she chatted before taking a taste and let out an agitated exhale.  
"...prepared _without_ an ounce of seasoning. Someone forgot the salt and pepper. Nice going, other Hunnigan."

"My kingdom for an omelet. Or a fresh salad... some tomatoes... an apple maybe... frankly, anything fresh would do nicely," she sighed deeply.

Once done eating, she drummed her fingers against the edge of the desk and tried to decide what to do next. There was so much that needed to be done, but nothing that actually could be done. Loneliness was bad enough, add boredom to that and you've got yourself a combination which would undoubtedly inevitably lead to a nasty case of depression. Or maybe insanity. Perhaps she'd already gone insane but just didn't know it. No, crazy people never questioned their sanity, so as long as she worried about being crazy, it meant she was fine. Right?

* * *

 _"Do what you can to keep in touch."_  
 _"Will smoke signals do?" Helena inquires jokingly and Hunnigan chuckles a little._  
 _"Smartass, but for what it's worth, I've got a satellite, I'll see it. Hunnigan out."_

* * *

Hunnigan snapped awake from the half dream, half memory after having dozed off watching a forty minute instructional video on how to fold towels and sheets neatly. She honestly had no idea how exactly she'd wound up watching it, but the woman's voice had been soothing and pleasurable to listen to. It took Hunnigan a moment to realize what had woken her. The computer was beeping to let her know it had found something. The facial recognition software had found a match to one of the searches she'd been running in the background constantly for weeks. A security camera in high school at Winchester in Virginia had captured Helena Harper. The feed was mostly of a dark empty cafeteria, but in the corner of the camera's field of vision was the kitchen... and the fridge which Helena had opened, the light pouring from within illuminating her face enough for the software to recognize her.

Hunnigan scrambled to sit up straight and reached for the keyboard, typing in commands to tap into more of the school's networked cameras that were still operational.

"What are you doing in there? You're supposed to be at the CDC lab in Colorado," Hunnigan muttered as she watched Helena make her way to the principal's office. Hunnigan grabbed her headset and dialed the phone number to the office.

* * *

"Hunnigan?" Helena breathed when she realized who she was talking with.

"Why are you there, you're supposed to be on doctor Lawson's protective detail with Leon in Colorado!"

"Glad to hear you're okay too," Helena muttered, more than a little miffed at being scolded after all the effort she'd put into getting where she currently was.

"Helena!" Hunnigan demanded and the younger woman sighed. It was all about the job with her, wasn't it?

"I was! Leon and I escorted Lawson to the center safe and sound, she's fine and working on a vaccine. Thankfully, the virus used in the attacks was one of the old ones, probably bought from the black market, outdated and mostly unmodified, whoever caused these outbreaks put most of their resources into spreading the infection rather than modifying it," Helena muttered.

Frankly, she didn't care too much about the details of who and why, her job wasn't to investigate the motives, her job was to resolve the situation and as far as she was concerned, it was being taken care of.

"These groups do like their sleeper cells and sleeper agents," Hunnigan agreed, her voice a quiet mumble, almost as if she was talking to herself rather than to another person.

"So, how are things on your end?" Helena inquired and Hunnigan scoffed.  
"Things are... quiet."

"How ya holdin' up?"  
"I'm fine. But I never want to see another survival food kit in my life after this is over."

"Don't talk about food, I'm starving," Helena groaned.  
"I'm sorry. I... didn't think before speaking," Hunnigan apologized, slightly embarrassed at having the audacity to complain about the quality of her meals while there were people out there who didn't have any at all.

"It's okay," Helena chuckled.  
"You never answered my question. Why are you there?"

"I'm on my way back to the HQ."  
"Why?" Hunnigan frowned.

"Thought you could use some company," Helena responded, her smirk audible in her voice, "It's gonna take me at least another day to get there... provided I won't run into trouble. Any chance you could map out a quick route for me, just like old times?" she then inquired in exaggerated nostalgia, and judging from the sound of Hunnigan's fingers fox trotting on the keyboard, she was already working on it.

"As is to be expected, most of the major roads are pretty badly blocked up, but if you're moving on foot, it shouldn't be a problem. There are a couple of camps along the way, but... judging from what I'm seeing I would advice against making contact with them," Hunnigan mumbled an answer as she spied on small groups of people taking full advantage of the situation and using it as an excuse to go wild.

"Roger that. As much as I hate to say it, I'm pretty tired and should get some rest."

"Just smile and wave at the cameras you come across, never know, I might be watching," Hunnigan jested. They both knew she'd definitely be watching Helena's every move whenever she could.

"I'll remember that. I'll see you soon."  
"I'll try not to go anywhere."


	3. It'll heal but it won't forget

**Chapter 3: It'll heal but it won't forget**

* * *

"Times like these it's not the zombies and mutated monsters that scare me the most, it's the normal people. It doesn't take a nasty case of bioterrorism or any other actual disaster for people to lose their minds, no. The thing is, that mob-mentality is already built in. Humans are, by nature, beings that tend to go with the flow. All they need is one person who gives them a reason they agree with and believe in," Hunnigan chatted as she boiled water in the mess hall's kitchen. When it was hot enough, she poured it into the large sink she'd plugged up.

"I can't tell you how many peaceful protests I've witnessed turn into violent riots. And once civil unrest begins, it's easier for anyone to join and before you know it, a protest against a certain cause turns into a legion of people looting and destroying things just because the opportunity is there. People who had nothing to do with opposing of defending the original subject that caused the protest in the first place," she said and took off her clothes before tossing them into the water.

One crucial feature the HQ that was otherwise so well-prepared for events like this lacked was modern means of doing laundry. Granted, the place was meant to set up temporary shelter when necessary, not to house people for long periods of time.

"A terrorist attack, involving biological weapons or not, is a great way to jumpstart chaos. It's amazing really when you think about it. It honestly doesn't take much, sometimes any actual action isn't necessary, the mere threat of taking away one of the luxuries we've become to consider a necessity is enough. Hell, I've seen people threaten to riot if their favorite character in a TV show gets killed off," Hunnigan spoke as she left her clothes to soak, crossed her arms over her bare stomach and leaned her back against the counter. The stainless steel was cold against her naked skin.

"Don't even get me started on religion or cults. All it takes it one charismatic leader and the herd of sheep will gladly do what they're told. They'll give away their possessions or take their own lives even."

"What's your point, other Hunnigan? You're boring myself."

"My point, and I do have one, is that humans are their own worst enemy. Humans are so self-destructive, we gladly ruin our own planet to the point of it becoming inhabitable, and all for what? For convenience and profit. What we don't just ruin, we try to exploit. Take these viruses we engineer. What kind of a person looks at a virus that can mutate people into monsters and says 'hey, I want to make this deadlier'?" Hunnigan shrugged and reached to feel the water with her fingertips.

It had cooled down enough for her to sink her hands into it and proceed with scrubbing her clothes clean. Thank goodness for the summers spent at grandma's cabin where the only means of doing laundry was scrubbing them by hand, just like now. Grandma's cabin was also where she'd learned that baking soda can be used to wash your hair and teeth (among other things), another little bit of practical knowledge that had become extremely useful and valuable in the current situation.

"Why would you do something like that if you didn't profit from it somehow? Either it's money or just an obsession to make an impact, to leave a mark, a legacy. I think if the motive for doing something like this is simply to make more money, it's pathetic. An obsession I can understand. Barely," she huffed, wringing the water from her shirt and then hanging it on the back of a chair in the mess hall before proceeding to clean the rest of the clothes in the sink.

"Then there's those with some noble cause. Those who believe they're doing the right thing. I can understand them too, I've been known to make some questionable choices myself just because I believed it was the right thing to do."

"Yes, like the time when you helped out two agents who were prime suspects in the terrorist attack that claimed the President's life in Tall Oaks."  
"I wasn't denying that, other Hunnigan, but at least the questionable choices I made didn't get anyone killed. As far as I know."

"You made the right choice... that time. However, the fact that you let your personal feelings for your favorite agents cloud your judgment remains."  
"You're in no position to judge me or question my actions, I did the right thing... and just like that I think you just proved my point. Well played, other Hunnigan."

"Why thank you, but you did kinda walk right into that one."

"Oh, God. I've gotta stop talking to myself before I start taking myself seriously," Hunnigan sighed deeply and hung the rest of her clothes to dry. She was getting kind of tired of the suit and made a mental note to stash something more comfortable to wear in her locker in case she'd be stuck out here like this in the future.

"And before Helena gets here. She'll think you've lost your marbles."  
"Good point, other Hunnigan. Now shut up and go away."

Speaking of Helena and Tall Oaks, Hunnigan had to pause to wonder why she'd trusted her. She'd known Leon for almost a decade and they'd built a mutual trust and respect through all the action they'd seen together during that time, putting her faith in him was understandable. But believing Helena wasn't, not as much. Granted, when first hearing about what had happened in Tall Oaks, Hunnigan had asked Leon to confirm what Helena was saying.

 _Leon, is that true?_

But the truth was, even if he hadn't been there, Hunnigan would've allowed Helena to proceed. Probably. Most likely. Helena had a certain aura of determination about her that made her very convincing. The difference between her and a charismatic dictator was that she didn't abuse her ability to make people want to follow her lead. At least nothing Hunnigan had witnessed Helena say and do implied that.

"But of course, if she were... say... a sleeper agent working for some terrorist organization like Neo-Umbrella, surely she should come across as trustworthy and loyal... until she turns on you."

"Okay, no, enough, you're out of line, other Hunnigan."

"Am I? Why is she coming back to the HQ? If she was a part of the recent attacks, obviously her mission failed and she still has work to do here. Maybe she's covering her tracks. I mean, honestly, do you seriously believe she's literally walking over a thousand miles just to keep you company? Don't flatter yourself."

As much as Hunnigan hated even giving paranoia a chance to plant any seeds of doubt into her mind, she couldn't deny that there was a certain logic to what she was thinking.

"But why would she?" Hunnigan asked herself and not surprisingly, she had a quick answer for that too.

"Why does anyone do these things? For money, for a cause, or who knows, maybe sometimes you don't need a special reason. Just because there's no obvious answer for the why, it doesn't mean I should just ignore the possibility."

"Helena wouldn't do something like this, I know her," Hunnigan shook her head as she continued arguing with herself.

"Do I?"she paused, stood still, leaning her palms against the edge of the steel sink.

 _Drip, drip, drip,_ drops of water slid down along her fingers, falling from the tips and into the sink.

"Don't I?"

* * *

Helena was making her way toward the HQ and was about to cross Pennsylvania avenue when a group of people stepped in her way. Reluctantly, she stopped, got off the bike and brought her hand to rest on her holstered pistol and raising the Hydra a little in her other hand.

"That's a mighty fine lookin' shotgun you got there, little lady," a young man commented as he moved to stand in front of Helena and stopped there, eyeing her from head to toe. Helena weighed the Hydra in her hand and smirked. She had two shots left and she sure as hell wasn't going to waste them on a looter and his friends that were circling her. But while she wouldn't shoot them, she didn't shy away from beating their heads to pulp with the shotgun if they insisted on turning this into a brawl.

"Why, thank you. It's my favorite," Helena responded.

"I'm an impatient man, so how about we cut to the chase. Hand over the weapons and any ammo you have, and I promise I won't do bad things to you before I kill you."

"What a generous offer, but I have to respectfully decline. As I said, this is my favorite shotgun, and I'd rather die before I let some common marauder have it," Helena scoffed.

As she'd expected, he lunged at her and she side-stepped the assault easily. As she slid past him, she swung the Hydra, the solid wood fore-end of the shotgun impacting heavily, sending him crashing face first into the ground with a deep dent in the back of his head. His body convulsed for a few seconds before eventually going limp and still.

"Who's next?" she inquired slowly. The rest of the group didn't hesitate and decided to jump her all at once. She counted five, two of them unarmed as far as she could tell. Then there was the woman with a knife and the man with a machete, and the lucky guy holding a lovely revolver, hopefully out of bullets. Helena drew her handgun and pointed it forward, steadying it over the Hydra's barrel as the shotgun pointed to her side. With her arms crossed like that, she managed to keep the two with the blades in her sights as she stared down the man with the revolver.

"I bet you don't have any bullets left in that," the guy with the machete muttered, voicing out what she'd been wanting to ask the man with the revolver.

"Well, even at the risk of sounding like a cliché, ask yourself... do you feel lucky, punk?" she responded with a smirk. He weighed the situation, hesitated for a second... then lunged at her. She pulled the trigger and the bullet pierced his forehead, ripping through the bone and brain, exiting gracefully and delivering a large splash of red, gray and white onto the beige wall behind the man like some display of grotesque modern art. The sudden sound of the shot seemed to startle his friends a little, and they stepped back.

"Next," Helena huffed. It was mostly a bluff, the handgun was empty. When no one moved for a while, Helena backed to the corpse of the man who'd held the machete. As she took half a second to glance down to see where the weapon was, the woman with the knife decided to try her luck.

She made it to Helena and managed to even get a decent attempt at stabbing her before she reached the machete and thrust it through the attacker's throat. Then Helena heard the revolver fire, but judging from the fact that she wasn't in pain anywhere, he'd missed.

 _Not his gun, he took it from someone and doesn't even know how to use it. How disrespectful,_ Helena mused as she swiveled around and aimed the Hydra at his head.

"Don't be stupid. You missed when I had my back on you, what chance do you think you have when I'm aware of your cowardly attempts?" she told him. He held the revolver pointed at her, its weight beginning to wear on him; his arms were shaking a little.

"I wasn't shooting at you, and I didn't miss," he murmured and Helena frowned. She'd almost turned back around to see who he'd supposedly shot when she realized she was about to fall for an old trick known as "hey, look behind you!"

"Nice try," she smirked and shook her head. He was about to respond when another shot exploded in the distance, blew past Helena and impacted in his chest. Helena could feel the bullet as it rushed to its target barely a millimeter from the skin on her neck. Either the shooter was really good or she'd just gotten lucky. Helena holstered the pistol and the Hydra before slowly raising her arms a little and turning to face the shooter who'd chosen to spare her... at least for now. She couldn't see anyone and judging from the fact that there was no hail of bullets flying at her, the shooter was either gone or not interested in her beyond having possibly saved her life just now.

 _Wait... The guy said he hadn't missed,_ Helena then remembered and scanned the surrounding area. She glanced up at the windows the buildings surrounding her, but couldn't see anyone and dismissed the idea of a sniper being there then; she'd felt the bullet, it had come from behind her in an angle that suggested the shooter had been on higher ground, but not that high. After looking around for a while, the statue of Brigadier General Casimir Pulaski caught her attention. Someone could've climbed on the base she supposed, but she couldn't see anyone.

"Anyone still alive?" she called out as she began making her way over to the statue. No response. No bullets flying at her either. Helena walked across the area, moving to circle around the statue and the wrecked car lodged by the statue. The shooter must've climbed on it to be able to reach the base.

 _Unless they're really tall or part grasshopper and able to jump that high,_ Helena thought amusedly. She paused when she discovered her helper lying on the ground by the blood stained base of the statue, a generous stream of dark red pooling on the ground.

"Oh, Christ," Helena breathed and knelt down.

"I knew getting shot would hurt, but God, this is worse than jogging!" Hunnigan grunted through clenched teeth.

"What are you doing here?"

"Bleeding!" the older woman answered matter-of-factly and impatiently, this was not the time for playing twenty questions.

"Don't be such a drama queen, it's not that bad... probably," Helena muttered. She couldn't say for sure really, she couldn't see the wound, only the general location. Hunnigan moved her hands from over the wound and the way Helena sucked in a hissing breath through her teeth was a pretty devastating diagnosis on its own.

"I know it hurts, but I gotta see the back," Helena said and urged Hunnigan to turn to lie on her side. She then pulled the bloody shirt up and inspected the wound on Hunnigan's side more closely. The exit wound was surprisingly neat which was good at least. The wound was just a little above Hunnigan's waist, in the spot between her rib cage and the hip bone.

"I don't think it's deep enough for there to be any injury to your internal organs," Helena assessed in a mutter. It looked more like the bullet had pierced the flesh and possibly fractured a rib, but nothing worse... Helena hoped.

"That's nice, but I'm a hemophiliac so unless you happen to have a bottle of Advate or a few blood bags handy, it's bye-bye Iggy."

"You're not gonna bleed out, you're not fucking allowed to bleed out, you hear me?" Helena ordered as if simply refusing to give Hunnigan the permission to die would actually prevent it from happening.

"Okay, let me think, let me think..." she then mumbled, standing up and pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips.

"The HQ is, what, about six blocks from here? There are military grade medical supplies there, right? I can get there and back in ten seconds flat," Helena exaggerated. Maybe not ten seconds, but fast enough to still do something. Hunnigan didn't respond, she was unconscious. There was no time.

"Shit. Okay, all right..." Helena muttered, knelt down and turned the other woman to lie face down before slipping her hands underneath Hunnigan's shoulders and pulling her up. She then leaned forward, pulling Hunnigan's arm over her shoulders, wrapped her arm around the backs of Hunnigan's knees and gripped her wrist with the same hand, locking her in place over her shoulders.

 _Don't die. You can't, you're not allowed... Don't, just don't,_ Helena chanted in her mind as she began rushing across the plaza and toward the HQ.


	4. Blood-stained valentine

**Chapter 4: Blood-stained valentine**

* * *

Despite Helena's best efforts to bandage the wound, it was still bleeding. Helena rummaged through the first aid kit for another hemostatic bandage, but there was only the one she'd already used.

 _Okay, option number two... stitches,_ she mused as she dug out the suture kit, thankful of the fact that the D.S.O. had invested in military grade medical kits.

 _Push down, curve your wrist, don't pick at the tip. Double-wrap the first tie, and do not let your patient die,_ Helena thought back the poor rhyme she'd made up when learning suturing techniques in the first place.

 _She's already lost too much blood, this is a waste of time,_ Helena then told herself silently, the grim thought taking her by surprise. She ignored it and continued her efforts to close the wound.

"It's probably not gonna leave the prettiest of scars, but... better than the alternative," Helena whispered when she was done.

 _I'm telling you, stopping the bleeding isn't enough._

"Well, what the hell else am I going to..." Helena began to debate herself when noticed the pouch labeled "FBTK" in the open kit. She reached for it, tore it open and dug the equipment out.

 _Come on, Helena, keep it together, you've done a field blood transfusion before... granted, just once, but still,_ she told herself as she fought to find a decent a vein in her arm.

Helena sighed tiredly. This would take a while. She would've wanted to take a nap, but was worried she'd pass out in the middle of the transfusion, and that wouldn't be ideal for anyone. But if she'd just get to rest her eyes for a couple of minutes...

A couple of minutes turned into almost ninety minutes. Helena jolted awake, not because of a noise or a pain or anything else external, but because she suddenly realized she'd forgotten to take something very important into account.

 _Come on, considering your condition, you must have something on you that... Ah, here,_ Helena thought frantically as she checked Hunnigan's wrists, ankles and finally her neck and discovered what she was looking for. Her necklace doubled as a medical ID containing information Helena could've used a while ago... not that it really would've made a difference considering that she only had this one option and she would've gone for it regardless.

"Oh, shit," Helena hissed and sighed deeply.

Hunnigan's blood type was A, and that was a problem. Helena knew her own to be O negative, and in theory, she could've donated to practically anyone, but this was a whole blood transfusion. There was no gentle separation of plasma and red blood cells prior to the transfusion, it was all or nothing, straight from her veins to Hunnigan's, and that would become a problem when Hunnigan's immune system would eventually react and rise to arms to fend off the stranger invading the body. The only question now was how bad would it get, would it stay at a mere fever or would it escalate to full-blown organ failure.

"You're such a difficult patient," Helena muttered. She returned to the first aid kit and dug out the IV equipment and an empty bag she'd need to fill up.

"I'm going to head to the kitchen and make some saline. Try not to go anywhere," Helena smirked a little at the unconscious woman.

* * *

Hunnigan opened her eyes slowly, it took a her a while to remember what had happened. Actually leaving her post and the HQ felt so unlikely she was almost willing to dismiss it as a vivid dream. She turned to look around and saw Helena slumped in an office chair, apparently asleep. Hunnigan moved to sit up and that's when the pain in her side registered and she noticed the IV catheter stuck in her arm at the elbow, less than elegantly duct taped in place. Judging from the mess of tubes and blood stains on the table and floor, Helena must have performed a transfusion... and judging from the saline that was currently dripping into Hunnigan's vein from the bag high up the wall (also duct taped in place), it hadn't gone as well as it could've. Hunnigan had experienced a transfusion reaction once before, it had been a pain in the ass to deal with. She didn't feel quite as bad as she had then, she took it as a good sign. She felt feverish, but not dizzy or achy... aside from the bullet hole in her side.

"Hey... you owe me a cookie and a cup of juice," Helena grumbled with a smile when she noticed Hunnigan was awake.

"And then some," Hunnigan agreed in a chuckle and grunted then when her side protested to expressing her amusement in such a manner.

"What were you doing out there?" Helena asked with a frown and sat up straight before leaning to rest her elbows on her knees.

"I was just in the neighborhood," Hunnigan smirked, shook her head a little and said more seriously, "I watched you make your way toward the HQ and saw you were about to run into trouble and figured I'd do something useful for a change."

"You do a lot of useful things," Helena quirked an eyebrow and Hunnigan shrugged one shoulder a little.

"Maybe, but in this situation sitting behind a keyboard would've hardly been useful... so I figured I'd give this 'being a hero'-thing a go. Clearly I made a huge mistake," she said, offering a lopsided smile and Helena chuckled a little.

"I was hoping to intercept you before you crossed paths with the looters, but I was late," Hunnigan then added.  
"Well, luckily you're a pretty good shot for a desk jockey."

"And you're a surprisingly good doctor for a field agent," Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.  
"I have many skills," Helena shrugged and Hunnigan narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Next thing you'll be telling me you also crochet and know how to moonwalk," she murmured and Helena laughed.  
"I was combat medic in the army. I'm surprised you didn't know that, I'm sure it's obvious in my papers," she said.

"Your military career is kind of over-shadowed by your indiscretions at the CIA and USSS," Hunnigan muttered, realizing her words came across a lot meaner than she'd intended them as.

"...right," Helena said slowly.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay, it's true. Anyway... thanks for coming to my rescue."  
"Thanks for saving my life after I totally screwed up my hero-moment," Hunnigan snorted.

"I like to think we saved each other, so let's call it even," Helena smiled.  
"I can live with that," Hunnigan agreed and lowered her feet over the table's edge. Her side hurt like hell, but she certainly had no desire to lie down on the conference room table for any longer than she'd needed to.

"Hey, take it easy..."  
"Why are you here?" Hunnigan then asked suddenly and Helena's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"What do you mean why? Where else should I be? I told you, Leon and I escorted Lawson to the CDC lab safe and sound, I had nowhere else to be, so I came back here," she explained.

 _How convenient that I can't contact Leon to confirm anything you say. How am I supposed to know you're telling me the truth? Of course, if you weren't, maybe you would've let me die... unless you need me for something,_ Hunnigan thought.

"...hey? What's wrong?" Helena frowned at the older woman when she'd just stared at her for a long moment.

"Nothing," Hunnigan shook her head. Helena wasn't exactly convinced, but didn't bother to argue.  
"You should get some rest," she said instead.

"Is that your opinion as a medical professional?" Hunnigan teased and Helena chuckled.

"Yes, and as someone who has gotten shot once or twice in her life herself. Go get some shut eye, and I'll make us something to eat in the meanwhile. I'm a pretty damn good cook even if I say so myself, I can make those survival meal kits into five star gourmet in ten seconds flat," Helena assured with a smile.

"And she cooks as well, the surprises never cease," Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow as she headed toward the break room with slow, careful steps.

"I also know how to play the ukulele," Helena said with exaggerated smugness and pride in a talent that took about an hour to learn, "I told you, I have many skills."

* * *

 _Most people can't handle a week of complete solitude let alone a month. Granted, Hunnigan's had stuff to stimulate the mind, it's not like solitary confinement, but still... It's a long time to be alone, it's bound to affect anyone's ability to think clearly,_ Helena thought. She held her hands slightly elevated at her sides, staring at Hunnigan over the sawed barrel of the Hydra that was now in the intelligence liaison's hands and pointed at Helena.

"What are you doing?" Helena asked slowly.

"Why are you here?" Hunnigan asked once again and Helena still didn't understand the question.

"I told you..."

"No, why are you really here, what are you after?" Hunnigan demanded impatiently. She swayed a little, the shotgun was surprisingly heavy even with the barrel sawed off... at least it sure felt like it when you happened to be running a fever and were suffering from blood loss. Helena tilted her head back a little, her mouth opening in a silent "oh" as she finally realized what was happening.

"You think I had something to do with the attacks."  
"Did you?"

"Of course not!" Helena spat, "Would I fucking do something like that? No! You know I wouldn't!"  
"I DON'T KNOW!"

"Yes, you do! You're the one who evaluated me as a candidate in the first place, you trusted me before and I was telling the truth then too!"  
"That's what it certainly should look like even if you were lying," Hunnigan shook her head a little and ran the back of her hand over her forehead to wipe sweat off.

"I have never lied to you. Lawson is with Leon, I wasn't needed there. I wanted to make sure you were safe, so I came back. That's the truth. I'm going to put my arms down now, then I'm going to step over to you and I'm going to take the shotgun from you."

"Don't."

"You're going to have to shoot me," Helena said softly, put her arms down and stepped to Hunnigan. The older woman's finger tightened on the trigger for a fraction of a second before she released her grip and gave in, allowing Helena to take the weapon from her.

 _"I dun feel sho ghud..."_ Hunnigan slurred through clenched teeth.

"It's okay..." Helena whispered, put the shotgun away and moved to push her shoulder under Hunnigan's arm to help her stand.  
"Come on," she then said, directing Hunnigan's steps toward the back of the break room where a bunk bed stood in the corner, usually occupied by agents and officers taking turns getting some much needed power naps during emergencies.

 _I'm going to need something to help get the fever down. Maybe there's some aspirin in the..._ Helena mused, then paused to slam her palm over her face at her own stupidity. _Yeah, that's a great idea, give the hemophiliac meds that cause blood thinning! You're an idiot!_ she scoffed at herself. Since medication wasn't an option, she stuck with the good old "cool wash cloth over the forehead"-method.

"Y'know, I'm a bit insulted you'd think I had something to do with the attacks," she mumbled as she sat down on the floor by the bed and leaned her elbows to her thighs.  
"Be as insulted you want, but you gotta admit you walking across the country just to check up on me is a bit suspicious. Especially when you could've checked up on me easier by trying to locate a working radio."

"You don't get it, I didn't want to check up on you, I wanted to be with you, make sure you're safe. It's what I do."  
"Sure..." Hunnigan muttered, her tone the audible version of an eyeroll.

"Is it really that difficult to believe someone genuinely cares about you enough to do something like that for you?" Helena reasoned and Hunnigan turned to look at her. The wash cloth fell from her forehead, making a wet _splat_ when it hit the floor.

"Yes," she narrowed her eyes at Helena and younger woman let out an exasperated sigh. She picked the wash cloth up and replaced it on Hunnigan's forehead.

"You're surprisingly annoying, you know that?" she shook her head. Hunnigan opened her mouth to comment, but Helena interrupted her quietly.

"Look, I can't make you believe anything you don't want to, but it's the truth; I'm here because I care about you."

 _A lot,_ she added privately before continuing, "After what happened to Deborah, you and Leon are pretty much the only people I have left in this world, and since I knew he's fine, I came to be with you."

"I suppose I have to believe you. For now."  
"Well, you could've shot me just now. Why didn't you?" Helena inquired and Hunnigan inhaled deeply.

"Because I'm not certain. Of anything. Too many variables."

"...so, if you'd thought you knew for certain, you _would_ have shot me?" Helena frowned, not bothering to even try hiding the hurt that snuck into her voice. How could she even seriously suggest that Helena would do something like this or be a willing participant in any of it?

 _Well, maybe because I was so easily coerced the last time. But this time is different, no one has any leverage over me anymore, she should know that, she should..._

"...I doubt I would've, but I can't say for sure. Sorry if it hurts your feelings," Hunnigan apologized tiredly.  
"I guess I understand," Helena shrugged a little. She didn't, not really.

"Could you do me a favor and check my post, see if you can establish a connection to... well, anywhere."  
"Sure," Helena muttered and got up. _Anywhere, or maybe to someone in Colorado to confirm what I've told you. You don't trust me,_ she thought as she went.

Knowing that Hunnigan doubted her and her motives hurt and insulted Helena more than she liked to admit. Had she really represented herself so poorly to Hunnigan during the time they'd known each other, had she always come across as less than trustworthy, or was it something she'd brought upon herself only during the Tall Oaks-incident?

 _No point dwelling on it, prove her wrong, that's all you can do,_ Helena mused as she typed out a few commands at Hunnigan's post. She transmitted several messages on several frequencies, but no one got back to her, not immediately anyway. She waited and frowned when she heard something, like chatter. She picked up the headset from the desk and held it to her ear, maybe someone was trying to make contact after all. No, that wasn't it, the sound was coming from somewhere else. Looking around, Helena spotted another headset, connected to the laptop on the side desk and realized they were the source of the sound.

"What does Ingrid Hunnigan like to listen to in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? Let's find out, why don't we," she smiled and put the headphones on.

 _Well, this is... certainly unexpected,_ Helena mused with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she found herself listening to Slipknot's "(sic)". Somehow she'd always imagined Hunnigan would be more the type to listen to something lighter, like Lady Gaga or P!nk; the playlist full of Type O Negative, Disturbed and Pantera was something she'd never expected from Hunnigan. She didn't come across as a metalhead, quite the contrary.

 _Perhaps it's a Clark Kent-type of a thing, once the glasses come off, she's a different person,_ Helena thought and chuckled a little as she tried to imagine Hunnigan in a metal concert. She couldn't, her imagination was good, but not good enough to conjure up a mental image of Hunnigan in a moshpit or headbanging like there was no tomorrow.

Helena put the headphones away and stayed by the desk a while longer, waiting and glancing over the screens split into multiple small windows displaying images from all over the country.

"I can't even imagine what it must've been like to watch all that death," Helena muttered when she realized Hunnigan had probably seen it all. Of course she had. She always did. What a terrible burden for one person to carry alone.

* * *

"This is... it's... green," Hunnigan muttered as she stared at the bowl of thick soup Helena had brought for her.  
"It's spinach soup, what color did you expect it to be, yellow?" Helena chuckled, then rolled her eyes at the other woman. Now was not the time to be a picky eater. Then she realized it wasn't that.

"Oh, my God, seriously, if I wanted you dead, I'd just shoot you, not bother poisoning your food," Helena rolled her eyes and grabbed a spoon, dipping it into the soup and taking a taste.  
"Straight from the freezer, contains nothing but spinach, milk, possibly butter or some other oil, definitely some starch... only thing I added was salt," she explained and licked the spoon with a slow, theatrical gesture.

"I wasn't suspecting you, but now that you mentioned it..." Hunnigan taunted.  
"Then what's the problem?"

"I didn't say there was a problem, I just said it's green," Hunnigan sighed then and proceeded to eat the creamy, somewhat sweet soup.

"So, not much of a cook yourself then?" Helena inquired as she proceeded to eat, this time from her own bowl.  
"I know enough to keep myself from starving," Hunnigan shrugged and Helena chuckled.

"When this is over, I'll make you my famous chicken parmesan burgers. They are to die for," Helena promised, paused for a moment then and continued, "Okay, poor choice of words in this situation, but you know what I mean."  
"Well, all the more reason to survive this mess," Hunnigan grinned. Helena nodded and continued eating, slowly and taking a moment to actually enjoy her meal instead of rushing it and dashing off like she'd had to do for the past few weeks.

"So, how'd you end up at the D.S.O.?" she then inquired from Hunnigan. The older woman sucked on her teeth and inhaled deeply as she took a moment to decide how to word it.

"Well, once upon a time I was a teenage renegade with a penchant for abusing her superpower... namely the ability to hack into practically anything... by breaking into classified government documents and leaking the contents," she began innocently and Helena's eyebrows rose in surprise. Definitely not something she'd expected from Hunnigan.

"As you can imagine, the government wasn't exactly happy about it so the next thing you know, the FBI came to have a 'chat' with me," she continued.

Actually, they'd raided the house in full force as if expecting to find an operational terrorist cell armed to the teeth inside. A lot of firepower and manpower for one teenager with a computer. As unsettling as it had been when it had first happened, it was kind of funny in hindsight.

"Long story short, I was given two options; work for them, have my record expunged and the charges dropped, or go to jail. And that's the story of how I became a respectable government employee," Hunnigan shrugged.

"That's actually pretty badass!" Helena commented, not even bothering to hide the bit of awe that crept into her voice and Hunnigan chuckled.  
"I don't know about that, I think the things you field agents do on a daily basis are way more badass."

"Don't sell yourself short, it's a team effort. Sure, I can literally kick ass, but without good intel I wouldn't know whose ass I'm supposed to kick, let alone where to find said ass to kick... and how to get out of the way when the nukes are launched. So yeah, we'd be screwed if it weren't for people like you," Helena summarized her appreciation for the most under rated branch of the organization.

"Thanks," Hunnigan smiled, admitting to being somewhat flattered and also glad to hear that at least someone appreciated the intelligence liaisons.

"What about you, how'd you end up going from being a combat medic to a CIA agent... to a Secret Service agent... to a D.S.O. agent? Why not pursue a career in medicine? Obviously you've got the skills for it," she then inquired and Helena smirked, her eyebrow quirking.

"Have you met me? My bedside manner and less than sunny disposition leave a lot to be desired," she jested and shrugged then, "I don't have what it takes to lose a patient and then walk up to the next one and introduce myself with a smile, you know? I'm better at protecting people than I am at trying to save them once the damage has already been done," she explained then and Hunnigan nodded slowly.

"Well, you made a good choice, you're an excellent agent. And not too shabby a chef either," Hunnigan commented and Helena chuckled.  
"Thanks."

"God, it feels like forever since I last sat down to have a meal with someone. Time becomes an odd thing when you're alone, it's so easy to lose track of it, a few days start feeling like a lot longer."  
"I can't even imagine."

"And I'm sorry about waving a gun at you as a 'welcome back'."  
"I suppose I should've sent Leon. Sorry if you were disappointed that I showed up instead of him," Helena smirked and Hunnigan frowned. What a strange thing to say.

"If you're implying what I think you are, rest assured that Leon and I are just friends, he's all yours for all I care."  
"What? No-no-no, he's not my type!" Helena shook her head.

"I thought he was everyone's type."

"I'm sure he likes to think so too," Helena laughed a little, "What I meant was that I should've considered the situation better and I should've let him come instead of coming myself. You two have known each other longer, and maybe if he were here instead of me, you wouldn't have to feel so... well, suspicious," she tried explaining.

"Poor Leon, though. I'm sure he'd be devastated if he knew you don't consider him your type," Hunnigan teased and Helena chuckled.  
"Only in the interest of renewing mankind would I ever..." she shook her head again.

"Well, the mankind could do worse than you and Leon as the equivalent of Adam and Eve."  
"Oh, now you're just grossing me out on purpose," Helena scoffed.

"But imagine what adorable children you two would have! They'd have Leon's fabulous hair and your-"  
"Horrible temper?"

"I was going to say 'feisty determination', but..." Hunnigan shrugged with a grin that conveyed false innocense. Helena groaned and chuckled at that.  
"For the record, the typical American dream of a house with the white picket fence, two kids, and a dog is a nightmare as far as I'm concerned," she confessed.

"Mine too," Hunnigan whispered conspiratorially, "my family never understood that though, I can't tell you how many times mom tried setting me up with guys she'd intentionally bumped into at the grocery store for the sole purpose of pimping me out to them," she added and Helena burst out laughing.

"Well, luckily for me, one of the perks of being an openly gay woman is that I can spend the rest of my life sharing a house with a cat and no one will question it," Helena commented and Hunnigan laughed, moving her hand over the injury in her side. Laughing hurt, but at the same time it felt good to genuinely laugh.

"I would personally rather live with Leon than a cat. Unless Leon sheds... Then I don't know."  
"I'm sure he would be glad to hear that."

"Maybe, but considering that I loathe cats, it's not much of a compliment really," Hunnigan chuckled.


	5. Love rhymes with fuck you

**Chapter 5: Love rhymes with fuck you**

* * *

 _I am not hallucinating, I am awake and this is real,_ Hunnigan thought as she watched the soldiers make their way into the building through the underground parking garage. She typed in a few commands to unlock the doors and make their journey a bit easier.

Thirty-six days, that was how long the siege had lasted. The last two days she'd had company at least, but as much as she'd wanted to, she had not been quite able to shake the off her suspicions regarding Helena. Unfortunately, Hunnigan was terrible at hiding that fact too, Helena was more than aware of being watched with a suspicious eye. She'd tried pretending it didn't bother her –why would it bother her, she had nothing to hide... but even so, she hated having her motives questioned. It was beyond insulting.

"Leon..." Hunnigan muttered, reaching to put her hand over his forearm as she was being transported on a stretcher toward the triage despite her adamant objections to being hauled around. Yes, she was injured and yes it hurt, but she was able to walk just fine.

"What's up?" he asked with a tiny smile and leaned closer.

"I want you to download some files from my post. I've not pieced it all together yet, but I might have an idea of what happened and who was involved. I just need my files... I need to make sure they're... that nothing happens to them," she murmured and glanced at Helena who stood further away, helping the medical team set up.

"Sure," Leon nodded.

"Thanks. I locked it, but you should be able to figure out the password," she smirked before the two men continued moving her away. Leon headed upstairs and toward Hunnigan's post, randomly tapping at the various keyboards to bring alive the computer Hunnigan had been talking about. He moused over the password hint and frowned.

 _Your nickname for me followed by round numbers plus five._

"Seriously? You could've just told me," Leon muttered as he tried to solve the riddle she'd left for him. The first part was easy, it could be nothing other than "Hunny-Bunny", which was what he'd called her only once, not just because of her name but also because he'd witnessed her consume ridiculous amounts of dry roasted honey flavored peanuts when she'd quit smoking. She'd threatened to give his email address to every spambot in the galaxy if he ever called her that again.

The rest of the riddle made no sense whatsoever though.

"Unless..." Leon muttered quietly. It wasn't tens, hundreds or thousands Hunnigan had meant with round numbers, she'd meant the actual shape of the numbers. He typed out the password followed by a series of numbers that any adolescent was familiar with, 80085... also known as the code to spell "boobs" on a calculator.

 _Welcome,_ the computer screen read as the password was accepted.

"You have the weirdest sense of humor. I love you, Hunny-Bunny," Leon laughed a little and sought the files Hunnigan had wanted him to copy for her. As he was copying them, he took a moment to browse through some of them.

It was a timeline, extremely detailed, meticulously pieced together from scattered surveillance images across the country and from field reports. Incidents in contradiction with confirmed reports, such as the subjects reporting in saying they were at location A when they were actually at Z, highlighted in red. There were quite a few. Some could be mistakes, simple errors people were prone to make when disoriented and in the middle of chaos. But not all.

While he could see the intent behind the timeline, Leon couldn't quite interpret it. Looking at it, Leon felt the same way he felt like when he tried reading a foreign language he was kind of familiar with; he'd catch a few pieces here and there, but the ultimate meaning of the sentence eluded him.

Leon did notice a lot of familiar names. The ones that were in red or orange had little to no meaning now, the current status of those agents was listed as "deceased". But what really stood out was Helena's name. It had no color code at all.

 _Why? It's not that Hunnigan didn't have the time to code it,_ Leon frowned, leaning his chin into his fist as he stared at the timeline, trying to decode it in vain. Hunnigan was too meticulous and precise for it to be an oversight, there had to be a reason.

 _Might as well ask Hunnigan myself,_ he shrugged once the files were transferred. He logged out and pocketed the flash drive before heading out.

* * *

"These video files are from the locations of where the initial missiles containing the virus were launched. These are our agents in those locations, lying about their whereabouts during that time. Which explains how the virus was spread so widely so quickly, we're not talking about a group of disgruntled amateurs, we're talking about a well-funded and capable group," Hunnigan explained to the director as she guided him through the timeline she'd put together.

"I know. And if it weren't for your efforts, we probably wouldn't have a damn clue. You did good," he smiled and squeezed her shoulder a little.  
"I don't need thanks, I just want to see that this won't happen again, I won't..."

"Hunnigan, trust me. It's being taken care of. Right now, you need to concentrate on getting better. You got shot, for Christ's sakes."  
"I doubt I'm the only one who's gotten shot recently," she grumbled.

"Maybe, but you're one of our best assets and I need you functional, and to ensure that, I'm ordering you to take some time off," he said, his voice stern but gentle at the same time. Hunnigan sighed. She supposed he was right, and she didn't have much choice anyway. As much as she hated lying here, unable to do anything, she knew there wasn't much she could do. The director turned to leave, nodded a silent greeting to Leon as they passed each other when Leon entered the mess hall that had been transformed into a medical bay of sorts.

"How ya holdin' up?" Leon asked Hunnigan and sat down by the bed.  
"I wish people would stop asking me that," she sighed.

"You should enjoy it while you can, lie back and relax a bit," he chuckled and she shook her head.  
"Lying around doing nothing is the opposite of relaxing to me, especially when I know what kind of a clusterfuck we have to deal with."

"I get it, but give it a try. Once you gotta start dealing with that clusterfuck, you won't have another chance to take a break," Leon grinned and she let out a little laugh.  
"I suppose you're right," she nodded, "Have you seen Helena?" she then inquired.

"Yeah, she's working with the medics, she seems to be doing okay."  
"Hm."

"She's busy," he shrugged and Hunnigan offered a lopsided smile. They both knew that wasn't it. They both knew she was avoiding Hunnigan because she was more than just a bit upset with the older woman.  
"So, why didn't her name have a color in your fancy timeline?" Leon inquired then.

"Because I couldn't confirm or deny anything. There were too many variables, too many unasnwered questions, it could've gone either way. Hell, I think it still could."  
"You don't really believe that, do you?" he frowned.  
"It doesn't matter what I believe."

* * *

Helena yawned deeply and rubbed her eyes. She'd been out the entire day, helping with the doctors and soldiers to set up a triage at the HQ and to spread the word of the vaccine, and then to help vaccinate the people who'd come over. The mess that had been a zombie apocalypse was being cleaned up quickly and neatly. Even the moles within the D.S.O. were being dealt with, thanks to Hunnigan's timeline. Not that there were many to deal with anymore, majority of the careless, greedy idiots had gotten themselves killed in the incident they'd helped make possible. When asked why and don't you care, the response was so unsurprising it was downright pathetic.

 _Why should I care, once I got paid, it made no difference to me what was done afterward._

It was over, things were getting back to normal. Helena knew she should've been glad. But she wasn't. She was agitated.

"I'm so fucking fed up with all the fucking bullshit and the fucking audacity of..!" she growled loudly and repeatedly punched her fists into the thin pillow on the bunk bed.  
"Just ouf curiosity, have you ever been to anger management classes?" Leon inquired from behind her. She sighed loudly. She'd thought she was alone.

"No offense, but fuck off, Leon."  
"I'll take that as a no," he commented cheerily and walked to stand by the bunk and leaned his shoulder against the wall.

"You need something or you just here for the show?" Helena quirked an eyebrow and he chuckled.  
"Hunnigan asked about you," he shrugged.

"What does she want to blame on me now, the great Coca Cola-conspiracy?" Helena scoffed and fluffed the pillow agitatedly before tossing it back onto the bunk and slumping to sit down on the edge.  
"If anything, I think she wants to apologize to you."

"Well, isn't that nice," Helena snorted.  
"Considering how you were in such a hurry to get back here to her, I would've imagined you'd be more eager to spend time with her," Leon trailed off slowly.

"That was before she waved a shotgun at me and questioned me," Helena narrowed her eyes and Leon nodded, raising his hands a little in a surredering gesture.  
"Yes, but in her defense, she'd been holed up here alone for a month, and she was right about our agents being involved," he said and Helena let out an exasperated sigh.

"That's not the point!"  
"Geez, you're behaving like you've never had your feelings hurt before."

"This time I didn't deserve it."  
"Well, I can't argue with the lack of logic in that," Leon commented sarcastically.

"There'll be an internal investigation and I'll be scrutinized again, and all just because Hunnigan questioned my integrity! And she had no fucking genuine reason to doubt me!"

"Helena, we're all being scrutinized because of the rogue agents. If not Hunnigan, then someone else would've put it together eventually and the situation would be the same, you shouldn't blame her. Why are you really so pissed off at her?" Leon questioned with a frown and crossed his arms over his abdomen.

"I'd be just as pissed off at anyone else," Helena shook her head.  
"Really? Because from where I am standing, you appear to be taking this rather personally."

"Fine, maybe I am!" Helena spat furiously, "Out of all the people in the world, I thought she would have faith in me! I trust her with my life on a daily basis and realizing that she can put me up on a list of suspects without even batting an eye really fucking hurts!"

"You're not being fair, she put a lot of people on that list."  
"Did she now? And what was _your_ rank, did you make it to top ten?" Helena quirked an eyebrow. Leon's silence was an answer enough. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him. Of course he wasn't on the list.

"That's different. We've been friends for almost a decade, that's a long time to have worked together and built trust. You on the other hand have been around for what, two years or so? And during that short time, you _have been_ involved in a terrorist attack!" Leon argued and Helena narrowed her eyes at him.

"I was coerced, it's not like I fucking wanted it to happen!" she yelled at him and he sighed.  
"My point is that contrary to what you seem to think, Hunnigan _did_ have a legitimate reason to have some doubts. Frankly, I'd question Hunnigan's competency if she hadn't considered the possibility."

"What, so now you're doubting me too?" she scoffed.

"No, but I can see why she had to put you on that list. I would've done the same and if the roles were reversed, you would've too," Leon reasoned. Helena opened her mouth to continue arguing with him, but realized she had no more arguments left. He was right.

* * *

Hunnigan had to admit she was more than a little amazed to find her house still standing and apart from a couple of broken windows, undamaged. She made a mental note to give a praising review to the company that had installed and manufactured the safety bars on the windows and in front of the door. Of course, they hadn't kept the house from being broken into completely. With chaos and no need to worry about getting caught, someone had taken the time to force their way in through the front door. Hunnigan prepared to find chaos and destruction inside, but was once again taken by surprise. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as she'd expected.

 _I wonder if my insurance policy covers zombie apocalypses,_ she mused as she stepped in and pushed the door shut behind her. It didn't lock properly anymore, but she'd deal with that later. Aside from the thick layers of dust on flat surfaces, the house was surprisingly tidy considering the circumstances.

 _Strange,_ she thought and circled through downstairs to make sure it was actually empty. She passed the living room and into the kitchen, moving forward to take a look into the laundry room. Nothing and no one so far. As she turned back, she noticed the piece of paper on the kitchen counter. It was message left for her, written with a messy and hurried handwriting.

 _Dear owner, me and my husband Robert took refuge in your house after our apartment building was overrun. We didn't steal anything, but we did chase away some looters. I did have to break a window during a siege, sorry about that. I hope you'll get to read this and are okay. The soldiers are telling us to go to the triage at that government agency building near Freedom plaza. Maybe we'll run into each other there. Again, sorry about the window and thanks for reinforcing your house, it undoubtedly saved us. Regards, Steve Cortinas._

"Huh," Hunnigan let out a tiny laugh. While knowing that there'd been other people living in her house, essentially invading her personal space, made her a bit uncomfortable, she had to consider herself fortunate. Out of all the people who could've stayed here, she'd been lucky enough to end up having her house occupied by a decent couple whose worst indiscretion was breaking a window as they'd defended themselves.

"Well ain't that something?" she asked out loud from herself.  
"Yes it is, other Hunnigan, yes it is," she nodded.

"Still talking to yourself. First sign of maddness, isn't it?"  
"No, hearing voices in the night is the first sign of madness. Don't question me," she shook her head and grabbed the empty laundry basket before heading upstairs. She then proceeded to remove the bed sheets and pillow cases and threw them into the basket.

"Nothing quite makes things feel normal as having to do chores," she muttered as she headed back downstairs. Her side stung as she carried the basket even though it was rather light. She wondered how long it would take to recover from it fully. She'd heard stories of people needing years to heal... granted, the stories had been about people who'd suffered more serious injuries. Hers was a neat puncture through some flesh, no internal damage, surely it would not need months.

Hunnigan checked the lights and nodded approvingly when they lit up just fine, there was still power. She then checked the faucet in the kitchen. It made a bit of a gargling sound and the initial stream of water had a bit of a rusty color, but it cleared out after letting it run a few moments. She filled a glass and held it under her nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing. She wasn't quite brave enough to have a taste, for all she knew there could be bodies floating in the tanks at the water treatment plant where her tap water came from.

"Then again, let's be honest, that was a possibility even before the zombies," she shrugged one shoulder.  
"...maybe, but I'm a lot happier not knowing for sure and would've appreciated being able to not think about it, thanks a lot, other Hunnigan," she sighed and poured the water down the sink.

Deciding it was good enough for at least washing up, she went to do the laundry and continued cleaning up. Having to be careful not to make too abrupt movements to keep from popping her stitches made the simple chores surprisingly time consuming, but it wasn't like she was in a hurry to go anywhere. When everything was done, she paused to examine her handiwork and nodded.

"And just like that, you'd never know the world was turned upside down until a couple of days ago," she mumbled and went to take a shower.

* * *

Helena eyed the house and contemplated on whether to knock on the door or not. She knew she needed to talk with Hunnigan and that she probably owed the intelligence liaison an apology, but at the same time, she felt awkward, a bit embarrassed and still slightly miffed. Although, now she was more annoyed at herself for getting so damn emotional in the first place. Helena squared her shoulders and knocked.

She paused for a moment when she was greeted by Hunnigan, her hair still dripping with water over the shoulders of her dark gray bathrobe.

"I can... come back later if this is a bad time," was all she managed to say. Hunnigan shook her head a little and stepped aside, silently inviting Helena in. The younger woman accepted the invitation.  
"I came to, uh... apologize. And to bring some supplies, I wasn't sure if..." she trailed off, shrugging the backpack from her shoulder and proceeded to unzip it.

"I know you said you never want to see survival food kits again, but until your friendly neighborhood corner store is open for business again, this'll have to do," she said, offering a lopsided smile.  
"I appreciate it," Hunnigan chuckled.

"There's potato soup... some mac 'n' cheese... broccoli and rice... and something that's probably meant to be like a milkshake, but I have some serious doubts about that," Helena listed as she rummaged through the backpack, kind of delaying having to start a serious conversation.

"Thank you," Hunnigan nodded again. They stood in silence for a while until Helena cleared her throat awkwardly and pushed the tips of her fingers into her pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as she tried to decide should she stay or should she go.

"I wanted to apologize. I was out of line getting so pissed off at you. You did what you had to do," she finally said.  
"I did, and I took no pleasure in it, truly. For what it's worth, I'm sorry I doubted you. I was wrong."

"Okay. I guess it'll take more time for me to convince you that you can trust me."  
"Continue proving me wrong and you'll have earned my trust in no time," Hunnigan jested a little and Helena let out an amused scoff.

"I'll do that. I should get out of your hair," she then said and took a step toward the door.  
"Actually, I'd honestly rather not be alone right now. Would you stay with me for a while?"

"...sure," Helena nodded.  
"Also, please don't take this the wrong way, but you reek."

"It's been a busy few days, excuse me for perspiring a little," Helena quirked an eyebrow and Hunnigan chuckled.  
"You're excused, but what I'm saying is, feel free to take a shower. The water's lukewarm at best, but it's still pretty damn good," she smiled.

"An actual shower with warm running water, now there's an offer I simply can't refuse," Helena sighed dreamily.


	6. Meltdown

**Chapter 6: Meltdown _  
_**

* * *

 _I am not hallucinating, I am awake and this is real,_ Hunnigan repeated her mantra as she buried her face into her hands and stood still like that for a long moment. She was in her bedroom, still standing in front of the closet after having dressed a long moment ago. She'd suddenly been paralyzed by the simple question, "Is this real?"

"My name is Ingrid Elizabeth Hunnigan, I am awake and this is real, the date is September... No... October seventh. The President's name is Adam... No, it's not, why can't I get this right, why can't I..." she mumbled into her palms. What if she was wrong? What if this wasn't real life, what if she was just asleep or captured in a ridiculous fantasy world? What if she was infected, roaming the streets as a zombie, still convinced she was alive?

"Does it even require an infection, what was I ever but a walking collection of memories and random inconsequential thoughts that had convinced itself that it was meaningful?" she asked herself.

"No, this is real, I'm at home, I am not losing time, this is not... I'm awake. I'm awake. I'm awake. If I weren't, it wouldn't hurt, but everything hurts, I'm awake," she whispered, running her hand down across her chest and abdomen and to her side, letting the tips of her fingers press against the stitched wound on her left side. She sucked in a deep hissing breath between clenched teeth when the pain from poking the wound exploded in hot red and white.

"Hunnigan? I hate to complain, but there are no towels," Helena called out from the shower and Hunnigan inhaled sharply, startled. She'd already forgotten she wasn't alone.

"Uh... Hang on, I'll... There should be..." she muttered a response she didn't realize Helena couldn't possibly hear. She reached to grab a towel from the closet and exited the bedroom, heading down the hall toward the bathroom when she literally bumped into Helena. She paused for a moment, not wanting to stare but not being able to do anything else either. Living the past month on a ridiculously restricted diet and being physically active for the most part had consumed the majority of Helena's body fat, leaving the muscles easily visible underneath the pale skin. Hunnigan was tempted to reach out and run her fingers across the contours of Helena's abdomen just to find out if they were as solid and hard as they looked.

"Eyes are up here," Helena teased and Hunnigan shook her head.  
"It's not... That isn't what I..." she stammered and sighed.

"I know, I was just teasing you," Helena chuckled, knowing that the odds were the older woman was more curious about the scar on Helena's shoulder (the shoulder Deborah had pierced with one of her sharp tentacles when she'd first mutated and attacked Helena) or the on her abdomen; a memento of having her appendix removed when she'd been just a kid.

"That looks painful," Hunnigan finally said, offering a small nod toward Helena's chest, indicating the barbell piercing on the younger woman's left nipple. Helena glanced down and chuckled a little.  
"It isn't. The nipple's a little more sensitive than the other since I got the piercing, but not in a bad way... if you know what I mean," she smirked. Hunnigan didn't comment, instead she handed the towel to Helena.

"I took the liberty of putting your clothes in the wash so you're gonna have to borrow something of mine for a while."  
"Does that mean I get to go through your drawers?" Helena inquired, rubbing her hands together menacingly. Hunnigan quirked and eyebrow and scoffed amusedly.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting to find, but yes, go ahead," she shrugged with a smile and waved her hand toward the bedroom.

* * *

Helena woke up and it took her a moment to remember where she was. Having spent to much time on the road, sleeping at odd places, it always took a moment to recall. She was on Hunnigan's couch and now more curious about what had woken her. She got up and scuffed into the kitchen quietly.

"Hunnigan?"  
"Jesus!" the older woman inhaled and swiveled around sharply, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles were white.

"No, just agent Harper, I can walk on water only during winter," Helena jested, but Hunnigan didn't seem amused. "Y'know... 'cuz during winter water is ice... which is solid..." she trailed off slowly.

"No, I got the joke, I'm just... I forgot I wasn't alone, you scared the hell out of me," Hunnigan responded.  
"I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Helena inquired quietly and Hunnigan shook her head.

"No, I'm really not," she said, her voice shuddering a little as she fought back tears.  
"You're shaking."

"It's just adrenaline," Hunnigan tried dismissing it, biting down on her lower lip to keep it from doing that quiver she'd always considered so childish.

"Come 'ere," Helena said softly, wrapped her arms around Hunnigan and pulled her into a hug, "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but it'll be okay. It has to be," she whispered and Hunnigan pulled back a little, her arms still around Helena's waist.

"Well, this is embarrassing," she sniffled and shook her head at her own weakness.  
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about," Helena assured her, but Hunnigan shook her head again defiantly.

"Yes I do. I've seen this kind of things happen for a long time, I've sat through attacks like this, watched and listened to friends and colleagues fight their way through hordes of monsters and all I could ever do is..." she trailed off, letting out a bitter laugh through tears.

"And now when the fight comes to my doorstep, all I can do is watch... and realize that I'm this weak and this easy to break. And on top of everything, here I am, having a damn meltdown in front of you out of all people! It's pathetic," Hunnigan scoffed and wiped her eyes agitatedly, realizing the harder she tried to stop the tears, the more generous the stream became.

 _Pathetic is the perfect word for it,_ she thought grimly. Helena had survived her battles, she'd endured even after having to kill her own sister (even though it hadn't really been Deborah at that point anymore), she'd avenged her and she'd helped shed light to a conspiracy that was reaching back 'd been plenty of tears and anger, but never had she stopped, she'd remained determined to get her job done, and that was exactly what she had done. Once it was all said and done, she'd moved on. She hadn't broken down like this, she hadn't wanted to crawl into bed and stay there, hiding and spending her time wondering if this was real life or was it just her, was it just the lines of reality and insanity blurring.

 _And all I did was sit there, alone. I didn't even have to..._

"Compared to what everyone else has gone through and what they've lost, I have nothing I should be whining about," Hunnigan said, now more angry at herself than sad.  
"Just because other people have it worse doesn't mean you aren't entitled to feel bad," Helena assured her, raising her hand to gently cup Hunnigan's cheek. Hunnigan lowered her gaze.

"I don't know how you do it, Helena. I wish I was half as tough as you are," she muttered quietly.

"Like everything else, that comes with a price too, sometimes you end up missing out on things just because you're so cold and detached. It's no way to live either, I learned that just recently myself," Helena said.

"Be that as it may, right now I'd rather not feel anything," Hunnigan sighed defiantly as she pulled further back from the half-hug she'd been in. Helena reluctantly let her go and watched her when she turned around, leaning against the counter, hanging her head low as she tried to stop the tears for good. This time she succeeded. Crying never helped anybody do anything... but sometimes it did make her feel better. Not today though.

Helena felt like she should've said or done something to comfort the other woman, but she didn't know what, or if Hunnigan even wanted comfort. Who knew, maybe she would've preferred being alone now.

"I'm sorry," Hunnigan said, inhaled deeply and staightened her back, squared her shoulders and turned to face Helena again, "I'm okay," she then added, nodding a little hoping to come across as convincing as she was desperately trying to be. She failed.  
"You don't have to be," Helena whispered, offering a rueful smile.

"...I'm going to head back upstairs and try to get to sleep," Hunnigan changed the subject and Helena nodded.  
"All right."

"Would you... I mean..." Hunnigan trailed off, unsure how to word it so that it wouldn't come across the wrong way.  
"Only if I get to be the big spoon," Helena smiled, having guessed what the other woman's request was.  
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hunnigan chuckled a little.

* * *

Helena was a light sleeper and the incoherent mutters from the woman next to her were enough to wake her. Helena rose to rest her weight on her elbow and turned to look at Hunnigan. She was asleep, but obviously having a nightmare. Helena placed her hand over Hunnigan's forehead softly and held it there for a while. It was damp with sweat, she was probably still running a fever too in addition to everything else. Helena ran her fingers through Hunnigan's hair and stroked the side of her face softly, moving to trace her thumb over the slender dark eyebrow.

Hunnigan seemed to calm down and turned a little, seeking out more contact with the warm body next to her. Helena smiled and slowly moved to lie on her back as Hunnigan sleepily adjusted, resting her head on Helena's shoulder and wrapping her arm around the younger woman's body.

"Don't leave," she muttered, her grip around Helena tightening a little. She wasn't sure if Hunnigan was still talking in her sleep or not, but it didn't matter, her response was the same either way.

"I'm not going anywhere."


	7. Dreaming wide awake

**Chapter 7: Dreaming wide awake**

* * *

Hunnigan grunted quietly as the pain from the wound on her side spread across her ribs and lower back. But it was a good pain. It meant this was real.

Helena was still asleep, her limbs sprawled on the bed in an X-shape, her mouth slightly open and her hand resting on Hunnigan's shoulder as she still held onto the other woman. Hunnigan got up slowly, reluctantly leaving the warm comfort of the bed and Helena's presence.

She headed downstairs and went to grab her phone from the coffee table in the living room. Still no service.

 _Well, it's not like I have anyone to call, now do I?_ she thought and put the phone away, proceeding to move across the room and into the kitchen. She loaded the coffee maker and switched it on. Just like any other morning. Except when she glanced outside and past her backyard today, she saw soldiers and teams from the CDC in their brightly colored hazmat suits, gathering up corpses of those unfortunate infected who'd been roaming the streets until recently.

Based on past experience, the clean up wouldn't take long and within a few weeks, everyone will have forgotten this ever happened. Maybe it'll be covered up, passed off as something more believable and supposedly harmless like a nuclear meltdown which would explain the chaos and certain areas being cordoned off. And in a few days the headlines would go from "Zombies!" to "Celebrity X exposed, check out the sideboob", and it would be officially over. People would argue about it online, some laugh it off as a ridiculous conspiracy theory, some continue to speak the truth even at the risk of being labeled paranoid, but it won't make a difference. It was like Leon once told her; in the end, nothing's really changed, has it?

The coffee maker gurgled as the last drops of water passed through and dripped into the filter. Hunnigan grabbed a mug and filled it with the bitter liquid before adding a splash of cold water to cool it.

"And eventually, the same shit'll happen again. Somewhere, sometime. I guarantee it," Hunnigan mumbled into the mug as she brought it to her lips and took a careful sip, "As far as I'm concerned, I guess the only question is what will I be doing when it happens."

"What a stupid thing to say, other Hunnigan, I'll be doing my job," she then mumbled, sighing and rolling her eyes at herself when she realized she'd once again slipped into answering her own questions out loud. She swiveled around sharply and frowned when there was a knock on the door.

"Good morning, sugar-pie-honey-bun," Leon greeted her with a velvety voice Hunnigan assumed was meant to be seductive.

"Agent Kennedy, what can I do for you?" she asked, ignoring his playful flirt, letting him get away with calling her by yet another ridiculous term of endearment... this time.  
"How formal. Do I smell coffee and pancakes?" he inquired instead of answering her question.

"Coffee yes, negative on the pancakes."  
"Could I be smelling pancakes?" he asked, raising his eyebrows innocently as she moved aside and silently invited him in.

"You could not."

"I don't think I've ever been in your house before. It's very nice," Leon chatted as he stepped inside and looked around, "I never realized you make this good money," he then teased and Hunnigan chuckled.

"I don't, this is courtesy of an ex-husband who sheepishly agreed to move out and to pay a ridiculous alimony."  
"Oh, he must've been really naughty."

"Well, if you're stupid enough to think you can get away with cheating on a woman with access to NSA-grade spy equipment, you deserve to lose the house in the divorce," Hunnigan smirked and Leon chuckled.

"Fair enough," he agreed. Hunnigan gestured toward the kitchen with her arm and Leon followed her.  
"So, what brings you here?" Hunnigan asked again and handed him a mug of coffee.

"No particular reason, I just wanted to check up on you, see how you're doing," he answered and took a sip from the mug.  
"Well, aren't I a popular gal these days."

"What do you mean? Are you saying I have competition?" Leon asked dramatically.  
"Oh, it's no competition, Leon, I got you beat before you even entered the ring," Helena commented smugly from the bottom of the stairs. Leon inhaled his coffee and after surviving his coughing fit, he patted his chest and cleared his throat.

"Hunny-Bunny, you didn't! I'm heartbroken, truly," he exaggerated.  
"Hunny-Bunny?" Helena doubled over in laughter.

"Are you two done?" Hunnigan sighed in exasperation, "Firstly, I told you never to call me that again and secondly, nothing like what you're implying has happened."  
"Well, now I'm heartbroken, you could've faked it," Helena pouted as she went to grab herself a mug of coffee as well.

While Leon appreciated the sight of her dressed in nothing but her boyshorts and a T-shirt that was a bit too tight around the chest (and was that nipple piercing he spied poking through the fabric?), he was more fascinated by the way Helena moved around the kitchen and Hunnigan like it was the most natural thing in the world. Fascinated and then amused. He knew people liked to think he was oblivious, and maybe he was when it came to having to deal with his own emotions regarding the women in his life, but watching these two circle each other completely unaware of the chemistry between them made him wonder who really was the oblivious one here. Or perhaps it was just a matter of being too close to it, not being able to see it yourself when it involved you.

"So, seriously, no breakfast? What are we, animals?" Leon sighed ruefully.  
"I worry that if I feed you once, you'll keep coming back like a stray, I don't need that," Hunnigan taunted and Helena chuckled. She put her coffee down and went to grab her backpack.

"Well, we do have some delicious, delicious oatmeal we could share," she said, dug out a pouch and shook it.  
"Beggars can't be choosers," Leon said, having to accept there would be no pancakes.

Once their less than fancy breakfast was cooked and served, they sat at the kitchen table, like it was just another day, like nothing unusual went on in the world. Leon took a moment to just watch the two women and smile as he listened to their light banter, appreciating the simple pleasure of having a chance to do something like this even under these circumstances.

"Ah, now all that I'd need is a smoke," Helena said, leaning back and resting her hand on her stomach when she was done eating.  
"That shit'll kill you," Leon smirked.

"Considering all the things in the world trying to kill me on a regular basis, I'll take my chances with cigarettes," Helena rolled her eyes at him. Hunnigan got up and went to dig through the bowl on the small side table by the door. It was where the always emptied her pockets when she came home, she was fairly certain she'd done so out of habit when she'd gotten back this time too.

"Here," she said after finding the pack of cigarettes.  
"Ooh, and it's my brand too!" Helena said happily as she accepted the Marlboros from the older woman.

"Hunny-Bunny, I thought you quit!" Leon scolded.  
"I did, and actually that's your pack, Helena. I may have kind of broken into your locker and stolen that, but if it's any consolation, I only smoked one of them," Hunnigan confessed.

"You broke into my locker?"  
"I broke into everyone's locker. Well, no actual breaking was necessary, I made a bump key..." Hunnigan trailed off, aware of the confused looks she was getting from the agents.

"You know how to..?" they both began asking in unison.  
"To quote you, Helena, I have many skills," Hunnigan quipped.

* * *

"It seems to be healing nicely," Helena said as she studied the wound in Hunnigan's side before proceeding to cover it with a fresh bandage.  
"Good. The surgeon who checked me out at the triage said you did an excellent job stitching me up," Hunnigan smiled and pulled her shirt back down once Helena was done replacing the bandage.

"Any word from your family?" the younger woman then asked and Hunnigan shook her head.  
"No, but I'm not expecting to hear from them to be honest."

"I'm sorry."  
"It's okay, I've had time to get used to the idea," Hunnigan said.

"Still, it's a... terrible thing to have to get used to."  
"What about you, what are you gonna do now?" Hunnigan asked and took a seat on the couch. Helena shrugged. She honestly had no idea.

"Go home and wait for things to get back to normal I guess. Although, now that I mention it, I'm not sure home is where it used to be," she said, realizing her apartment was probably trashed provided the building was still standing even.

"Well, you're welcome to stay here if you want to. I could use the company to be honest."  
"I appreciate it," Helena smiled. They sat in silence for a long moment. Helena looked around the living room, trying to find something to talk about before the silence would grow too awkward.

"So, you... like metal. That's somewhat surprising," she commented as she glanced at the cabinet full of CDs and DVDs.  
"How come?" Hunnigan inquired.

"Well, it's really a judging a book by its cover-thing. When I think of metal music, I imagine the general fans of that genre are long-haired bearded men, not women in tidy suits and glasses."  
"So what am I supposed to listen to, Miley Cyrus?" Hunnigan asked.

"'Wrecking ball' is actually a good song," Helena commented and Hunnigan burst out laughing.  
"I can't promise I won't tease you over that statement in the future," she chuckled and shoved Helena's shoulder playfully.

"Just be gentle and I can live with it," the younger woman smiled. She then got up and went to the cabinet to check out Hunnigan's movie collection.

"Oh, it's been forever since I saw this, can we watch this?" she inquired then and pulled out a copy of _As good as it gets_. Hunnigan merely nodded with a smile and Helena went to put the disc in before returning to the couch.

"Now all that's missing is popcorn and milk duds," Hunnigan said.  
"Yeah, and if we also had pajamas we could call this a slumber party."  
"We could still build a fortress out of the couch cushions."  
"A great idea," Helena chuckled, but instead of beginning any kind of construction, she simply leaned back on the couch. She was about to cross her leg over the other when a blunt pain impacted with her calf and tightened the muscles.

"Ow, God damn it, not again!" she grunted and stood up, taking limping steps to shake away the pain.  
"What's wrong?" Hunnigan frowned.  
"Cramps. I guess my legs didn't appreciate trekking across the country," Helena shrugged. She walked around the room a couple of more times before finally returning to her spot on the couch after the spasm passed and all that was left was a dull ache in her calf.

"Gimme, I'll fix it," Hunnigan said and made the "come hither"-gesture with her index finger as she stood up.  
"Where do you want me exactly?" Helena quirked an eyebrow.  
"Just take off your pants and lie down on your belly."

"Hey now, you gotta at least buy me a drink before I let you touch me inappropriately," Helena taunted and Hunnigan rolled her eyes.  
"It's not gonna be inappropriate, you perv."  
"Aw," Helena let out a disappointed mewl and chuckled before doing as she was told.

"Are you secretly a physical therapist too?" Helena then inquired as she settled down on the couch and Hunnigan pulled up the ottoman from under the coffee table and sat down on it.  
"No," Hunnigan chuckled, "I just like to know how things work so... I figure it out. Human body just happens to be one of those things," she answered.

"So whatever you wanna learn, you just go ahead and teach it to yourself?" Helena frowned and sucked in a hissing breath when Hunnigan's hands slid over the sore muscles, up the length of Helena's calf, all the way along the hamstrings.

"Pretty much. It won't get me a job since I have the skill but no papers from a university to prove it, but luckily I already have a job," Hunnigan explained as she bent Helena's leg a little, pressing her palm over the ball of her foot and stretching the back of the calf.

"With your skills, you could just hack into a fancy university's database and give yourself a doctorate in like... religious studies. Y'know, just for laughs," Helena mumbled into the cushions and Hunnigan chuckled.  
"Why didn't I ever even think of doing that?" she wondered, slowly bringing Helena's foot back down and continuing to run her hands over the back of the younger woman's leg, gently kneading the muscles.

"Let me know if I'm using too much pressure," she then said.  
"It's fine, it kinda hurts, but it's a good hurt," Helena answered.

She didn't think she'd ever received a massage before, aside from occasionally asking Deborah to squeeze her shoulders a few times just to get the blood flowing (to which the younger sister had reluctantly agreed to but had never really done properly) anyway. She was beginning to appreciate the appeal.

"Mm, don't let me fall asleep," Helena muttered, already sounding very sleepy.  
"Well, the movie ain't going anywhere, you can fall asleep if you want to and watch it later."

"I don't want to," Helena argued weakly like a sleepy toddler fighting over naptime. She nodded off for a moment before snapping back awake and moving to sit back up slowly.

"Okay, you gotta stop, I'm really falling asleep... and getting kinda turned on."  
"Hm..."

"Oh, God, I didn't mean to say that last part out loud," Helena groaned, embarrassed and Hunnigan chuckled.  
"I'll take it as a compliment."

"Well, this is terribly awkward."  
"It's okay, really. Don't worry about it," Hunnigan dismissed with a smile and moved to sit back on the couch.

"Thanks."  
"Considering you did all that walking just to keep company to my sorry ass, I think I owe ya," Hunnigan shrugged.

"Forget that embarrassing comment I just made and we can call it even," Helena suggested and Hunnigan laughed a little.  
"So, what really did possess you to walk all that way?" she inquired then and Helena let out an exasperated sigh.

"This again?"  
"No, not 'again', just... asking without any suspicion. Why'd you come back for me? It doesn't make any sense."

"The things people like me who are prone to emotional extremes do rarely make sense," Helena smirked.  
"I really am glad you did come, despite the way I initially reacted... for which I apologize."

"...I'd always come back for you," Helena said seriously and paused to swallow hard when Hunnigan leaned closer to her. She inhaled sharply when she felt the other woman's breath brush against her lips before she closed the small space between the two of them and pressed a soft kiss onto Helena's lips. The younger woman closed her eyes and melted into it, almost forgetting to breathe as she savored the softness of Hunnigan's lips against her own. It was the sweetest kiss she'd ever received.


	8. Epilogue -672

**Epilogue - 672**

* * *

 _I am not hallucinating. I am awake and this is real,_ Hunnigan repeated her daily usual method of poking at the wound in her side to confirm it didn't work anymore because the wound had healed. But the raised scar tissue she felt under her fingertips served the same purpose, as long it was there and she could feel it, she knew it had all happened and that this was real.

She stared at Helena's back, slowly reaching to softly touch the pale, smooth skin before snuggling closer to the sleeping woman next to her and pressed her cheek against the spot between Helena's shoulder blades, wrapping her arm around her.

672 hours. It seemed like such a short time to have discovered a million new ways to love somebody.

The younger woman let out a surprised mewl when Hunnigan's palm pressed against her abdomen.

"Your hands are cold," she complained sleepily.  
"Poor blood circulation, if I started smoking again, my hands and feet would probably die," Hunnigan jested, mumbling her words against Helena's skin.

"Well, then you'd better stay the hell away from my smokes. Don't think I haven't noticed you sneak a few now and then," Helena taunted, turned around slowly and ran her fingers through Hunnigan's hair, leaving her hand to rest on the back of her neck.

"Or you could quit too," Hunnigan commented, raking her fingernails along Helena's back and to her hip, leaning to nuzzle into the hollow of the younger woman's throat.  
"Maybe I will once I turn thirty. Of forty. Or another round number in the distant future," Helena mused with a smile, lazily caressing Hunnigan's shoulder.

"Guess what?" Hunnigan then asked, rolling them over so that Helena was lying on her back, moving to straddle the younger woman and leaning over her.  
"I suck at this game," Helena grumbled.

"You're not even trying!"  
"You've shown your boobs to Slayer?"

"Well, duh, who hasn't?" Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow.  
"I haven't!"

"My side doesn't hurt anymore," Hunnigan said, returning them back to the original subject she'd been talking about. She leaned to plant kisses on Helena's neck and across her collarbones before sitting up straight, tracing her fingers across Helena's chest, along the valley between her breasts and finally stopping to caress the younger woman's abdomen.

"Is that so?" Helena smirked at the implication.

During the past four weeks they'd done practically everything else there was to do –spent hours lying in bed, caressing and kissing each other, slowly and meticulously exploring each other's bodies, learning about the secret sensitive spots, but they hadn't made love. Helena had said she wanted to wait until Hunnigan was fully recovered, and while she appreciated the gesture and Helena's patience, Hunnigan had to admit she herself was growing impatient. She was happy just being there with Helena, but at the same time, knowing there could be more and being unable to actually do more left her frustrated beyond words.

Hunnigan reached to gently grip Helena's wrists and moved the younger woman's hands up along her thighs and to her hips, guiding them higher. She paused at the scar, directing Helena to go ahead and feel it.

"See?" she smiled at having no reaction to pain when the spot was touched. Helena sat up, wrapping her arms around Hunnigan and leaning to kiss her lips softly.  
"I'll be convinced once you've had your check-up today," she murmured into the kiss.

"You want me to ask the doc to write me a note that says I can safely have sex?" Hunnigan chuckled.  
"That's actually not a bad idea," Helena commented, pretending to seriously consider it. Hunnigan rolled her eyes at the younger woman and tightened her grip on her.

"That's a ridiculous idea. I have a better one."  
"I'm anxious to hear it..." Helena whispered, nuzzled into Hunnigan's shoulder and kissed it softly.

"How about tonight... after my check-up with the doc... and after my session with the shrink... and after you've made me those chicken parmesan burgers you boasted about weeks ago..." Hunnigan began and tucked a lock of hair behind Helena's ear, pausing to kiss along Helena's shoulder and neck in between sentences.

"Goodness, I'd totally forgotten about that, I'm sorry."  
"...we could... have a different kind of dessert," she finished presenting her idea in a whisper and gently bit on Helena's earlobe.

"I'll bring the whipped cream, you bring the honey... Hunny-Bunny," Helena grinned devilishly.

"Don't you start!" Hunnigan groaned and Helena laughed, firmly holding onto the other woman and pulling her back to lie down with her, demanding five... fifteen... forty-five more minutes of cuddles and kisses.

* * *

Hunnigan opened a window and sat on the sill. The early November weather was still on the warmer side, but the light breeze slipping over her naked skin was still cool enough to make her shiver a little. Helena lied on her side on the bed, facing Hunnigan, resting her head in the cup of her palm, staring at Hunnigan intently with a lazy, satisfied smile curling her lips.

"Give it," Hunnigan ordered, wiggling her fingers a little.

"Y'know," Helena began before pausing to take a drag of the cigarette and reaching over the edge of the bed to hand it to Hunnigan, "I swear you seemed a lot less demanding before we slept together," she teased.

"Don't people always?" Hunnigan quipped with a smirk and tilted her head back, exhaling a thin line of smoke.  
"Touché," Helena chuckled and rolled over to lie on her belly, resting her cheek against her forearms that were folded ontop of each other.

"I don't think I've ever actually seen you smoke before. It's kinda sexy when you do it," she then commented, grinning a little.  
"Remember that the next time you complain about my cold hands or about me stealing a smoke or two from you."

"How about we compromise, you can have all the cigarettes you want as long as I get to watch you smoke them."  
"Do you have a fetish I should know about?" Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow, put the cigarette out and shut the window.

"I didn't before, but I might be developing one," Helena said, moving over to make room for Hunnigan and settling down to rest her head on the other woman's chest when they were both under the covers again.  
"I have a question I need you to answer for me," she then said.  
"Yes?" Hunnigan inquired.

"Do you trust me?" the younger woman asked seriously, leaning her head back a little to be able to look into Hunnigan's eyes. She offered Helena a gentle smile.  
"With my life."

Helena returned the smile, nodded a little and nuzzled into Hunnigan's neck, holding onto her tightly and lazily caressing her side. She didn't remember ever feeling as safe and loved as she did in that moment.

"I love you, Ingrid," she whispered, using the other woman's first name for the first time ever.

Hunnigan chuckled at that softly and said, "I love you too, Harper."

 **End**


End file.
